All the people wanna talk about/Cameron Ail (Cameron Haiil!)

[wolven7]

He walked through the
soddering gale, through the wind and rain
And the pourin' hail (and the drivin' pain)

Put a jaunty beat behind it (one/onetwo-three|one/onetwo-three), something that would work well with handclaps, and you have the commercial theme to one of the things I dreamed, last night. It was a show about a guy who had the ability to walk into any trouble in anyone's life, including his own, and walk away unscathed. Luck of the Irish, kind of thing. I'll be writing more about him, later. The commercial showed everyone caught in some kind of gigantic hurricane, that froze them in place, but was obviously still throwing them backwards, and Cameron, with his own piper, skipping and leaping through, not water or debris touching him.

The dream, from what I can remember, started in a summer day, walking down a combination od Dekalb Ave. and College, at Avondale MARTA Station. It was a hazy, bright day, but somehow not too hot, or I had simply gotten used to it. Standing in the parking lot of a liquor store, now, and I had just findished some conversation which I remembered having, but don't remember having been a part of. I remember the memory of the conversation. I start walking toward the other MARTA station, under trees, which is where the streets start to merge, more fully.

I'd made it to the stations, and had very important conversations with the superstructure of reality, no one entity of Dreams or Technology, but the self-aware alloy that comes from the braiding together of all of them, the thing that, in a very real sense, births them all. The conversation was spotty, at best, but now I saw nwe things, as I walked: I saw the migratory patterns of fire hydrants, and the races that raccoons have to run, to get their stripes. I made it to the house. Whose house (not Run's) I have no idea, save that it had been formerly occupied, and was now something trying to find communal value.

The house was full of people, and I was watching my nephew, Quenton. Something in the house about a party, some kind of large pizza, needing to be cut into the chunks that everyone liked(several shades of pzza, last night, with people here); cutting it different ways made it different things. Talking to someone from a very independent part of Norway about how everyone confused him for Swedish, and how he was closer to ancient Norse. He played guitar, and I told him about Skwisgaar Skwigelf, because I had to. Various things about Quenton running around, and people having to watch him, and my having to keep him out of trouble, and change him. No idea where my sister was, in all of this.

Finally, 3 am, 4am, the kid's asleep, and I'm talking to... Nrothgäar, I think his name was, and we were discussing songs, and he did a Metal version of the Cameron Ail song, which I don't remember. I knew that I had to get back on the road and start walking again. I needed to get to my car, which required extra-dimensional walking. On the walk, I see the raccoons, again, racing, and they stop to stare at me, and threaten me, because they felt like I was going to hurt them, somehow. I saw the fire hydrant that ran from me, earlier, tipped over, and I helped it upright, again.

I walked to my car, and got in it. More conversations with the Superstructure, who, I think, drove me home. I woke up.

Good morning.

Comments

[unknownbinaries.livejournal.com]

I miss this kind of Dreaming so much it hurts.

I keep hearing you say that it's weird, that these things still freak you out, and I can't figure out how how you don't just sit back in wonder and awe of them, of all the strange connections that happen around you.

[wolven.livejournal.com]

I like to try to retain a sense of awe, at the whole thing. Keeping it as fresh as I can, but that freak out factor is a part of it.